Not everything stays. That doesn’t make it meaningless.
I wasn’t looking for anything. Just walking along the beach, thinking about nothing in particular, when I noticed the footprints. Two of them. Soft, small, and already starting to fade.
The tide was coming in. Not fast, but steady — the kind of rhythm that doesn’t ask permission. I knew they’d be gone in seconds.
I took the photo without thinking. Not to save it. Just so I could look again.
Lately, the ocean feels closer. Not just physically — closer in a way that’s harder to name. Like it’s changing faster than we are. The water, the weather, the way the sand shifts. It used to feel familiar. Now it feels like it’s warning us, gently.
This photo isn’t trying to be profound.
It’s just a moment I didn’t want to overlook.
Because sometimes what’s underfoot is already disappearing.
And sometimes, noticing is all we can do.
